Playing His Own Games | ✔︎

chapter thirty-three | banancing on a tightrope

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"Anger doesn't solve anything. It builds nothing but it can destroy everything."
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Carrie

I'M NOT SURE WHAT LED me here—hovering outside the sliding glass doors that open into the hockey rink. Perhaps it's the memories attached to this particular location. Memories that have singed themselves into the forefront of my brain. This place is a reminder of where it all began. The first time I felt sparks flare between Mason and I, when he taught me how to skate and when his lips first captured mine in an intoxicating, addictive kiss. The first time I had insight into his dysfunctional life when Michael confronted him after the hockey game.

Maybe I'm just trying to convince myself that loving him is worth it. Hoping that revisiting old memories will flick a switch inside of me and instantaneously make me know the path I should follow. Part of me wants to leap back into his arms so I can scrub off the darkness that stains his soul and glue together the broken pieces he has been reduced too. The other part of me is afraid. Afraid that I'm repeating old mistakes and being swallowed up by the superfical aspects of love. Afraid that his anger, his bitterness and complete lack of control could destroy me.

As I enter the grey building with my head bowed and tears rushing into my eyes, I recall all the times we've fought to stay away from each other. All the times Mason has pushed me away and spat hateful words at me, just to have me chasing back after him. Images flash in my eyes of recent events. The glass bottles shattering as he flung them at the ground in a fit of rage. An icy, unforgiving fire gleaming in the empty pits of his eyes. His mouth twisted into a bitter, savage smirk before he lost control and he started throwing insults at me that left gaping holes in their wake. Arrogance and danger dripping off his taut shoulders as he yelled and raged.

Unknowingly, he was testing me and seeing how far he could push me before I fled.

Well, I fled.

Do I plan on returning?

Is it worth him testing me when in the end I could be sacrificing my own life and happiness? I'm his elastic band, one that he continues to pull and stretch to its absolute limit. How long will it take for me to snap?

"Carrie? What are you doing here?" A voice speaks from behind me. In my haze of thoughts, I realise I've reached the benches overlooking the rink.

I slowly turn on my heel, hastily wiping the tears from my cheeks. "I—I just felt like it."

Trent stands before me, his eyebrow cocked and arms crossed. "You're shit at lying. C'mon, you can tell me what's wrong. Is it Mason?"

I feel brittle, like I'm about to shatter into millions of pieces. "Nothing's wrong," I say unconvincingly, just as one singular teardrop slides down my cheek.

Trent gently grabs my arm and guides me over to the benches, where we both take a seat in a tense silence.

"What did he do?" Trent asks softly, his eyes flickering over to me.

A lump forms in my throat and I can't get the words out. Within seconds, I'm a blubbering mess and sobbing pathetically into my hands.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Trent wraps his muscular arm around me to pull me into a half hug. Why do I wish it were Mason comforting me when it's Mason I'm crying about?